


Blame it All On Nashville

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-25
Updated: 2001-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-11 05:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: An answer to my own GtDaB challenge, to write, in 1000 words or less, a story carrying a title from the new CD.





	Blame it All On Nashville

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Blame it All On Nashville

## Blame it All On Nashville

by Shirley Russell

Author's Website: 

Disclaimer: 

Author's Notes: This one's a little different. I promised the folks on the Keeley list that I would write something featuring the character David played on DS, Earl Jeffers. 

Story Notes: There are spoilers here for Mountie and Soul.

* * *

Blame it All On Nashville  
Shirley Russell 

The air was cold and damp as he walked in darkness toward the light, but the closer he came to the light the warmer it became. He slowly became aware of mist swirling around his legs, rather like he was walking in a cloud. 

The farther he walked the lighter it became and the more he became aware of his surroundings. Lack of surroundings would have probably been a more apt description, however. He could see nothing but mist. Absolutely nothing. No structures, no points of reference, no landmarks, not even a horizon to focus on. 

Compelled ever forward, he walked for what seemed to be an eternity. Eventually he could see vague shapes in the distance. As he moved closer he watched the forms evolve into large numbers of people waiting in a long line. They moved very slowly, toward several signposts. As he approached the signs he could see the shapes on them changing as the people proceeded past. 

As the elderly woman in front of him passed the sign it flashed words that he recognized as French. When he passed the sign he read the words in English - 'Jeffers - J - follow the line for surnames H-K'. Not knowing what else to do he did as instructed and joined a line that stretched as far as the eye could see. 

He waited in the appropriate line a short while before a man with a long white beard, wearing what he assumed was a white choir robe, approached him. Reading from a white notebook computer, the man spoke. "Earl Jeffers. Shot. Murdered in a. . ." the man scowled at him, "strip club." 

Everyone in line close enough to hear stopped and turned to look at the man who had died under such appalling circumstances. Most of the women looked disgusted, while most of the men seemed envious. 

"I'm Jeffers. Who're you?" 

"Angel Daniel. And I think it will be necessary to get additional data from you prior to your being processed." 

"Processed? What the hell ya mean, 'processed'?" 

"SIR! Unless you wish me to make an instantaneous determination you had better watch your language! Follow me." 

Jeffers followed Daniel to a table that had miraculously appeared in the mist. The angel motioned for Jeffers to be seated as he also took a seat. 

"Now, please explain what you were doing in a . . ." the angel cleared his throat nervously. He was obviously embarrassed, and possibly just a tad bit curious. "What you were doing in, in, one of those places." 

Jeffers looked incredulously at the white computer. Daniel looked up and scowled. "What? You think we still use stone tablets and chisels? The Father insists on the latest technology. From Whom do you think Bill Gates gets his inspiration?" 

"I'm dead?" 

Daniel scowled at Jeffers once again. "Most assuredly. Now, you're wasting time. Explain." 

"I was bein' blackmailed." 

"And?" 

"I had ta meet the little sh . . . blackmailer there." 

"Blackmailed why?" 

"It wasn't my fault. He found out about some trumped up charges when I was workin' homicide in Memphis. Read some bogus stuff in a Nashville newspaper." 

"And the blackmailer's name?" 

"Dunn, Carver Dunn. He's been drainin' me dry for seven years. Statute of Limitations almost expired too." 

Daniel studied his records. "But it says here that you were murdered by George Monroe." 

"So, he's the one! Wait'll I get my hands on . . ." Jeffers suddenly realized that he would never be given that opportunity. "Ya said somethin' bout processin' me?" he whispered. "Whadaya mean by that?" He had to ask even though he was afraid he already knew the answer. 

"Whether you spend eternity with the Father, or without Him." 

"Ya mean," Jeffers gulped, "Heaven or . . ." 

Daniel shivered, " . . . the other place. Yes." 

"Look," Jeffers hurried to explain, "none a this stuff was my fault! I was framed in Memphis, racketeerin', thrown off the force. Had ta take this nowhere job runnin' security for Tracy Jenkins just sos I could eat. If I'd never gone ta Nashville, then that little sh . . . blackmailer wouldn't a found out about me 'n Monroe would never a killed me." 

"You mean to say that you believe all your problems would not have occurred if you had not gone to Nashville?" 

Jeffers looked Daniel right in the eye. "Yeah! Blame it all on Nashville!" 

At that moment Daniel's computer beeped with the unmistakable sound of incoming e-mail. He took a moment to read his screen and then sat back in his chair. He stared at Jeffers and then looked upward with eyes closed in total contentment. 

"Truly inspired," he whispered. 

Jeffers was dumbfounded. "Ya get e-mail from God?" 

"Yes." Daniel thought for a moment and then continued, "we have a proposition for you. Stay here and you will undoubtedly spend eternity," Daniel shivered again, "in the other place. We will assume that is an option not desirable to you. Therefore, we have two assignments for you. Once they are complete you can spend the rest of your life rethinking your relationship with the Father." 

Jeffers didn't even take time to think about it. "Whadaya want me ta do?" 

"First - find Elvis and tell him the Father says it's time he came home . . ." 

"Ya mean he's not already here?" 

Daniel looked at the human being sitting across from him and just shook his head. "Of course not. Second - get Constable Turnbull's song published." 

"Ya mean that goofy Mountie?" 

"Yes. The Father has a special place in His heart for, shall we say, mentally deficient individuals." 

Jeffers knew that finding Elvis would be a snap compared to finding someone to record Turnbull's stupid song, but he also knew the alternative. "Done." 

"And done." 

With that Earl Jeffers returned to his life running security for Tracy Jenkins and in an endless pursuit of Elvis and someone to record Turnbull's song. His prediction did indeed turn out to be correct - finding Elvis was a snap compared to the other. 

* * *

End


End file.
